This study was produced in conjunction with Dr. Toby Jenkins' seminar The Art of Protest, part of Union Institute and University's Ph.D. in Interdisciplinary Studies program, during the fall of 2012.
Which
commercially-successful protest songs released during the years 1965-1970 most
helped define the moniker “protest songs,” and which remain salient models of
the form today? Examining ten songs from a variety of performers released
during the five years in question, written social, musical, and economic
contextualization will explore how each song sought to new roles for the
individual in society, across social, economic, and civic dimensions. While the
development of popular music as a viable source of rhetorical statements of
critique and protest to an extent coincided with the widespread commodification
of the genre through physical recorded media, corporate publishing and
distribution interests were challenged to endorse some artists’ political
statements.
These songs have
been selected not only for their themes of representation of underrepresented
voices, but especially for their undeniable popularity and commercial success.
The period between the years of 1965 and 1970 was selected for its critical
influence on the public sphere, during which individuals and groups challenged
and helped refine working definitions of free speech and peaceable assembly;
David Berger, in his 1975 study of pop music’s cycles of symbolic production,
notes these years to be “the peaking of lyrical diversity [that] may have been
a function of the increasing range of public controversy over civil rights and
the Veit Nam war in society at large. But social turmoil is not inevitably
mirrored in popular music” (Berger, p. 168). The ability of popular music to
participate in conversations of social, economic, and civic critique is
important, across all of our virtual, digital platforms for discussion and
collaboration. As musicians, performers, and consumers seek rewarding lyrical
and musical experiences online, choices in artists’ social, economic, and civic
statement may complicate, and perhaps render defunct, previous cycles of
symbolic production within the creative genre of widely-disseminated popular
music.
In her essay “Why
I Refused the Medal for the Arts,” poet Adrienne Rich explained the rich
relationship between viewer and creator at work in creative expression: “art is
our human birthright, our most powerful means of access to our own and
another’s experience and imaginative life. In continually rediscovering the
humanity of human beings, art is crucial to the democratic vision” (p. 103). To
help redefine the role of lyrical music in the digital public sphere, each song
in this study has been performed in unique arrangement during the months of
September and October 2012, and has been produced for distribution to YouTube.
Each video is a solo performance of the songwriter’s original words; the
performer has taken liberties with modulations, tempo variations,
instrumentation, and the inclusion of repeated choruses. While the contribution
of these videos to the digital, public sphere may not be fully representative
of the author’s original work, the human connection of live, recorded
performance seeks the human connection identified by Rich, the “access to our
own and another’s experience and imaginative life.”
Click here to view the Songs of Representation and Protest 1965-1970 playlist on YouTube (opens in a new window)!
“Mr. Tambourine Man” (1965)
Written by Bob (Zimmerman)
Dylan in February of 1964, following a trip to New Orleans, “Mr. Tambourine
Man” represents one of Dylan’s decisive critical statements of individual
representation. Released on his 1965 album Bringing
It All Back Home, this song was almost immediately popularized through
versions by Judy Collins and The Byrds, who performed it live on the Ed Sullivan Show in December, 1965. “Mr.
Tambourine Man” was Bob Dylan’s first #1 hit on the Billboard charts, and
remains emblematic of his abilities, as a songwriter and postmodern poet.
Take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time/far past the frozen leaves/the haunted,
frightened trees
Out to the windy beach/far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky/with one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea/circled by the circus sands […]
hey, mister tambourine man, play a song for me
I’m not sleepy and is there is no place I’m going to (Dylan, 1965).
Through a variety of
rhetorical strategies employed in postmodern poetry, Dylan’s lyrics describe an
individual seeking to enjoin another on a journey of both intrinsic and
extrinsic value. A spiritual statement of submission resounds through each
chorus (“in the jingle-jangle morning I’ll come following you”), as each verse
describes a framework of complexity, beneath which the individual may find no
solace, and seeks deliverance. The listener, subject to the very dilemmatic
environment Dylan describes (“evenin’s empire has returned into sand/vanished
from my hand”), is invited to a metaphysical separation from physical
circumstance (“I’m ready to go anywhere/I’m ready for to fade”), to rejoice a
renewed and empowered autonomy and authority of the individual.
“(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” (1965)
Written by Mick Jagger and
Keith Richards and recorded in May of 1965 for release as a 45rpm single in the
following month, “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” represents the Rolling Stones’
lyrical and instrumental interpretation of rock and roll, its themes and
discontents. At the time of their writing and crafting this song for release,
the band had already enjoyed years of popularity, and were well-established in
the public sphere. While the song received critical and commercial success upon
its release as a single on the Atco label, its sexually suggestive lyrics were
censored in live television performances by the band later that year.
When I’m driving in my car/and a man comes on the radio
Tellin’ me more and more about some useless information/supposed to
drive my imagination
I can’t get no/satisfaction (Rolling Stones, 1965).
Jagger’s lyrics describe a
frustration with economic, social, and political conditions; the dwindling
abilities of the individual to respond and participate within established
systems of representation are made clear, through examples that include radio
and television advertisements, as well as the grueling efforts made in support
of performance tours (“when I’m ridin’ round the world/and I’m doin’ this and
I’m signing that”). The individual, struggling to match, if not exceed,
societal norms of behavior and consumerism (“how white my shirts can be […]
can’t be a man/because he doesn’t smoke/the same cigarettes as me”), is
delivered no satisfaction, beyond the visceral thrusts of electric guitar that
accompany each rebellious chorus.
“Sloop John B.” (1966)
A folk song from the West
Indies (first recorded there in 1935), the Beach Boys’ interpretation of this
popular song was titled “Sloop John B.,” and was recorded in July and December
of 1965. The Kingston Trio had recorded a version in 1958; Johnny Cash released
a version titled “I Want to Go Home” in 1959. Appearing on the Beach Boys’ landmark
1966 album Pet Sounds, “Sloop John
B.” was first released as a 45rpm single for Capitol Records, where it received
extensive commercial and critical success—not only for its unique
instrumentation, sonic quality, and vocal harmonies, but also for its themes of
departure and yearning.
The first mate he got drunk/and broke in the captain’s trunk
The constable had to come and take him away/sheriff John Stone/why
don’t you leave me alone
Well I feel so broke up I wanna go home/hoist up the John B.’s sail (traditional; Beach Boys, 2011).
Two verses describe the
on-shore tribulations and conflicts of the ship John B.’s crew: fights in
“Nassau town,” and thievery that results in the presence and evasion of law
enforcement. The chorus offers the promise of escape, from a sorrowful
environment, descending into repeated pleas to “go home.” The imagery of a sail
being raised invokes the promise of travel, the retreat to other places, of
less difficult engagement and conflict. Multiple voices resonate through each
chorus, all of whom call for a return to a more familiar place.
“Respect”
(1965)
Written by soul singer Otis
Redding for use by another artist on the Stax label, Redding chose to include his
version of the work on his 1965 Stax release Otis Blue: Otis Redding Sings Soul. The song “Respect” was originally
conceived of as a down-tempo ballad, its speaker a male addressing a female;
Aretha Franklin’s 1967 rendition became not only an important statement to
leaders of civil rights in the 1960s, but also to the feminist movement in the
1970s. The commercial success of Redding and Franklin’s versions were important
as ‘crossover’ hits for both artists, achieving high placement both on
Billboard’s R&B and popular music sales charts.
I ain’t gonna do you wrong while you’re gone/ain’t gonna do you wrong
cause I don’t wanna
All I’m askin’ is for a little respect/when you come home baby
I’m about to give you all my money/but all I’m askin’ in return,
honey/is to give me my propers
When you get home (Redding,
1965).
With direct statement, the
speaker demands from listeners adequate representation: an opportunity to be
heard. Establishing the fair exchange of money and faithfulness for attention
and honesty, the sparse lyrics describe an equality between individuals, a
parity and simplicity of request (“all I want you to do for me/is give it to
me”). The song climaxes in the spelling out of its theme
(“R-E-S-P-E-C-T”).
“For What It’s Worth” (1966)
In mid-1966, the group
Buffalo Springfield—which included Stephen Stills, Jim Messina, Richie Furay,
and Neil Young—took a gig as the house band at the popular Whisky a Go Go club
in Los Angeles. In response to the growing populations of young people
lingering on neighborhood streets before and after frequenting the music clubs,
municipalities passed ordinances that included a strict 10:00pm curfew, and law
enforcement strictly upheld the new rules. Stephen Stills wrote the song “For
What It’s Worth” after attending a rally, held on November 12, 1966 at the
corner of Sunset Boulevard and Crescent Heights, that drew over one-thousand
participants (including celebrities Jack Nicholson and Peter Fonda) in protest
against the new curfews. The first public performance of the song came on
Thanksgiving night 1966, at the Whisky a Go Go, and the group recorded a studio
version on December 5th; by March 1967, the song had reached the
Billboard top ten; its popularity has, through rebroadcast and new
interpretation by scores of artists, accelerated since its release decades
ago.
Paranoia strikes deep/into your life it will creep
It starts when you’re always afraid/step outa line, the man come and
take you away
Stop now, what’s that sound? Everybody look what’s goin’ down (Stills, 1966).
This vision, of conflict
between individuals and the systems of representation within which citizens are
conscripted, promotes a heightened awareness of one’s environment; the
necessity of one’s receptive skills comes alongside the world’s cruelty
(“nobody’s right if everybody’s wrong”). The fear and ‘paranoia’ with which one
may approach an unknown individual or group’s expectation (“what a field day
for the heat/a thousand people in the street/singin’ songs and a-carryin’
signs/mostly sayin’ hooray for our side”) becomes apparent, as the repeated
chorus beckons the listener to auditory and visual observation. The listeners (referred to as “children”) are
invited directly to “stop […] everybody look.”
“Both Sides, Now” (1967)
Songwriter Joni Mitchell
wrote “Both Sides, Now” after reading Saul Bellow’s novel Henderson the Rain King; Judy Collins’ recording of the song, made
shortly following Mitchell’s composition, became a major commercial success in
the United States, winning a Grammy in 1968 for Best Folk Performance. Mitchell
included her own version on her debut release, Clouds, in 1969, an album that won a Grammy for Best Folk Album in
1970; through a series of albums in the 1970s, Mitchell would become an
important and defining performer and composer in popular music. The song became
a popular cover for many musicians during the late 1960s, including Frank
Sinatra, Bing Crosby, Dion, Robert Goulet, and others.
Bows and flows of angel hair/and ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere/I’ve looked at clouds that way
But now they only block the sun/they rain and snow on everyone
So many things I could have done/but clouds got in the way (Mitchell, 1969).
Mitchell’s fanciful and
childlike description extends across three verses, each describing a specific
framework (“I’ve looked at [clouds, love, and life] that way”). Through
elements including fairy tales, “dreams and schemes and circus crowds,” and
“illusions” that pervade each chorus, the individual voice characterizes their
environment through disconnection (“now old friends are acting strange”), humor
(“you leave them laughing as you go”), stopping short of full regret (“so many
things I could have done”). The representation of the individual becomes
critical, as the speaker’s identification of distinct and unique interactions
with the world exterior to their vision. The acceptance of “both sides now”
comes through the suspension of one’s professed knowledge, and a professed
submission to a larger wealth of understanding: “I really don’t know” clouds,
love, and life “at all.”
“Happiness is a Warm Gun” (1968)
Following their 1967
pilgrimage to India, seeking spiritual enlightenment alongside a group of
famous friends, the Beatles returned to EMI’s Abbey Road studios, to continue
work on what would become referred to as “the white album,” for its minimalist
packaging. According to interviews with Lennon, conducted by Rolling Stone editor Jann Wenner in
1970, the song’s title derived from a magazine producer George Martin shared
with the songwriter: “I just thought it was a fantastic, insane thing to say. A
warm gun means you just shot something” (Wenner, 2001). Lennon’s fascination
with the magazine’s destructive sentiment developed into a song characterized
by fragmentation, odd time signatures, a “rare example of polyrhythm in The
Beatles’ catalogue” (Wikipedia, 2012) and a progression through themes of
dependence, autonomy, and one’s own abilities of perception and understanding. While
this song was understandably not received as a popular music hit, the Beatles’
1968 double-album remains one of the greatest-selling albums in the history of
recorded popular music.
She’s not a girl who misses much/she’s well acquainted with the touch
of a velvet hand
Like a lizard on a windowpane/a soap impression of his wife which he
ate and donated
To the national trust […] I need a hit ‘cause I’m goin’ down (The Beatles, 1968).
Across four segments,
“Happiness Is a Warm Gun” establishes a tragically weak sense of connection
between individuals and the society within which they participate. In section
one, a blizzard of bizarre images render the landscape inconceivable; section
two establishes the speaker’s desperate need (of a “hit/’cause I’m goin’
down”); section three, the shortest, in which the lyric “mother superior jumped
the gun” is repeated thrice; section four contains the work’s broad,
sing-a-long chorus, including carefully-placed background vocals, reminiscent
of vocal arrangements found in American pop music of the 1950s (“bang
bang/shoot shoot”). Seeking to create an absurd environment within which voices
may seek to find their original and unique contextualization, the Beatles’
“Happiness Is a Warm Gun” serves as an example of representation of the
individual in a postmodern, and violent, world.
“Can’t Find My Way Home” (1969)
Written by keyboardist Steve
Winwood after joining the supergroup Blind Faith in late 1968, the song “Can’t
Find My Way Home” appeared on the band’s only release, the self-titled Blind Faith in 1969. As Cream—featuring
Blind Faith bandmembers Eric Clapton and Ginger Baker—had experienced immense
commercial success, Polydor Records fully supported the group’s efforts in the
recording studio, and heavily promoted their international tour in 1969. The
only album by Blind Faith quickly became #1 on the Billboard Pop Album sales
chart in the week following its release.
Come down off your throne and leave your body ‘lone/somebody must
change
You are the reason I’ve been waiting so long/somebody holds the key
Well I’m weary and I just ain’t got the time/and I’m wasted and
I can’t find my way home (Blind Faith, 1969).
Two verse and chorus
structures comprise this complex ballad. Winwood’s lyrical intention—to draw
closer both listener and speaker—is accomplished through direct invitation (“you
are the reason I’ve been waiting all these years”) and the promise of another’s
company, however incapacitated (the speaker is “weary,” “just ain’t got the
time,” and “wasted”). Like other tracks on the Blind Faith album, the “key” is
a recurring theme: of knowledge unleashed, an access refreshed.
“In The Ghetto” (1969)
Written by Mac Davis
specifically for use by Elvis Presley, “In the Ghetto” was released as a 45rpm in
April of 1969—months prior to the Woodstock Music and Arts Festival in upstate New
York. While having helped pioneer a revolution in popular music’s ability to
serve as a new venue for the representation of individuals, Presley (the “King
of Rock and Roll”) sought throughout the late 1960s to remain relevant and
commercially successful. His extensive movie career completed, his 1968
television “Comeback” special, in which he donned a black leather jacket and
pants, may have only served to reinforce his cultural antiquity: much of his topical
music had remained at a great distance from the revolutions in civil rights and
representation, that were taking place in the streets and elsewhere in the
United States. Originally titled “The Vicious Cycle,” Presley experienced
renewed commercial success and regained the public’s attention through his
recording of “In the Ghetto,” recorded at American Sound Studios in Memphis.
As the snow flies/on a cold and gray Chicago morn another little baby
child is born/in the ghetto
People don’t you understand/the child needs a helping hand/or he’ll
grow to be
An angry young man one day/take a look at you and me/are we to blind
to see? (Presley, 1969).
“In the Ghetto” represents a
tradition of storytelling in popular recorded music, perhaps best characterized
by the spoken-word narratives released in country and western music in the
1950s. The tragedy of underrepresented children is made apparent, as the lyrics
describe a child born to deplorable conditions, raised in need (“and his hunger
burns/so he starts to roam the streets at night/and he learns how to steal”),
and killed senselessly (“one night in desperation/a young man breaks away”).
Other images include a crying mother, a child being born, and the repeated
urban landscape (“a cold and gray Chicago mornin’”). Listeners are repeatedly
challenged by the song’s chorus, and nearly accused of ignorance (“do we simply
turn our heads/and look the other way?”), before ending with a refrain, of new
birth and the rediscovery of the human potential for compassion.
Country Joe and the Fish’s
“Feel-Like-I’m-Fixin’-to-Die Rag” (1967)
Written by songwriter Joe
McDonald in 1965, for inclusion on his group’s debut recording in 1967, “I-Feel-Like-I’m-Fixin’-To-Die
Rag” appeared as well on the 1970 soundtrack album of the film Woodstock, a documentary of the famous
1969 music and arts festival, at which Joe McDonald delivered a solo
performance of the song. This live rendition of the song—preceded by his
leading the mammoth crowd in an expletive-laced cheer—may be the most
well-known recorded version. While his band, Country Joe and the Fish,
experienced only moderate commercial success, the “[…] Fixin’-to-Die Rag” never
garnered record label’s support as a 45rpm single (the only song in this collection
to bear this distinction). Following renewed public interest in the song
following the release of the Woodstock film
soundtrack, songwriter Pete Seeger recorded a version he intended for single
release, but failed to find support from disc jockeys or record labels.
Come on, Wall Street, don’t be slow/why, man, this is war—a go go
There’s plenty good money to be made/supplyin’ the army with the tools
of the trade
Just hope and pray that if we drop the bomb/we drop it on the Viet
Cong (McDonald, 1969).
Through overstatement and
parody, McDonald’s bleak characterization of the individual’s compulsory
interactions and submission to the military-industrial complex is made clear,
across four verses and a repeated chorus (“what are we fightin’ for? Don’t ask
me I don’t give a damn”). Verse one is an ironic call to action (“Uncle Sam
needs your help again/he’s got himself in a terrible jam”); verse two addresses
world leaders, and assumes their propensity to violence (“your big chance is
here at last/gotta go out and get those reds/cause the only good commie is one
that’s dead”); verse three speaks directly to “Wall Street,” and those
individuals and corporations who may reap economic benefits from military
escalations and conflict; verse four paints parents’ sense of status in a
morose reality (“be the first one on your block to have your boy come home in a
box”). The chorus is blatant in its message, and seeks to infer or instill no meaning
into the sole action—death-- being described (“there ain’t no time to wonder
why”).
Works Cited
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Blind Faith. (1969). Blind Faith. [vinyl sound recording]. New York, NY: Polydor.
Buffalo Springfield. (1966).
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Dylan, B. (1965). Bringing It All Back Home. [vinyl sound
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Mitchell, J. (1969). Clouds. [vinyl sound recording]. New
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Presley, E. (1969). From Elvis in Memphis. [vinyl sound
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